


without watney

by yovrbucky



Category: The Martian - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Grief, incomplete and will likely stay that way, pulling this from old tumblr ramblings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-07-10 05:31:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19900606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yovrbucky/pseuds/yovrbucky
Summary: She knew what this was, and they both knew that it was easier to focus on inanimate objects rather than the look they knew would be in each others’ eyes - the look only worn by those who were suffering but also pretending they didn’t notice their own pain. Floating in a black hole of denial.





	1. Chapter 1

Everyone was sneaking wayward glances at each other, eyes glancing across dark circles and worry lines, while simultaneously making the effort to not look at all. They each had a tell for when they thought nobody was around to catch them - Martinez took to rubbing his thumb and index finger along his eyebrows to rub away a stressor that couldn’t be undone; Beck idly pressed each of his fingernails into the palms of his hands, over and over as if to remind himself ‘you’re still here’ in the wake of ‘he is not’; Johanssen tugged at a strand of hair behind her ear as she ran operations with one hand. Lewis gazed blankly through windows and at walls as though there was something more to see, a different version, perhaps, of what might have been. But nobody looked, not really, because they were all coping in their own way and looking to really see was just a dagger in a wound that they knew was still raw.

On the sixth day WW (Without Watney), the Hermes creaked and groaned through space as it had for months before. Beth sat curled in her seat, wrapped in a NASA-emblazoned blanket as she ran diagnostics on the operating system. The machine beeped softly every time the program confirmed it was running properly, but her fingers never paused over the keys as she diligently worked though each check.

“Beth?” A voice said softly, rough with disuse. Chris stepped out of the dimmed doorway behind her. “What’re you up to?”

Beth let out a little sigh before finishing her sequence and swiveling her chair to face him. Her hands tucked up into the sleeves of her sweatshirt as she folded them under her arms, somehow giving off the impression of being smaller than she was before.

“Working some diagnostics,” she said, letting her eyes drift quickly over his face. Looking at people when you were talking to them was polite, but staring at their dark circles was not, and Beth didn’t quite feel like dredging up the reasoning behind them at this hour.

Chris had let his eyes flick over the rest of the room while she answered, but they came back to her face with a quick look of consternation at this. “Diagnostics?” He was unable keep the slight incredulity out of his voice. He might not be a programmer, but he knew that the ship was perfectly capable of maintaining its functions while they slept.

She rolled her eyes at this. “Oh, and you’re here to make sure all your patients-” she swept her hand, still shut inside the sleeve, around at the room, “are all alive and well, Doctor?”

He raised his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay,” he grumbled good-naturedly, moving further into the room. As he turned away from her to sit in the opposing chair, she caught a glimpse of the mussed hair at the back of his head. He let out a groan as he tipped his chair back, considering her through heavy lids. His leg served as an anchor on the floor as he swiveled back and forth. She met his gaze levelly for a moment before turn in back to her screen, placing her hands on the keys.

They sat in silence as the computer beeped softly through a few more tests. “How’re your folks?”

The question was out of place enough that Beth actually stopped typing to shoot him a look. He shrugged and looked away, as if suddenly realizing how transparent he was being. “They’re good,” she said, looking back at the screen but not fully concentrating. “Mom said the squirrels are dropping acorns in the gutters again - on purpose, because it makes so much noise,” she smirked. “Could be worse.”

She had dropped the guise of diagnostics at this point, but was still looking at the screen. She knew what this was, and they both knew that it was easier to focus on inanimate objects rather than the look they knew would be in each others’ eyes - the look only worn by those who were suffering but also pretending they didn’t notice their own pain. Floating in a black hole of denial.

She felt, rather than saw, Chris smile at the squirrel’s antics. Becoming fond of mundane Earth Things was a symptom of long-term space travel. They sat again in silence, wanting to continue the conversation but not knowing how to around the gaping hole that followed them everywhere - how a hole could simultaneously carry weight was a mystery, but everyone’s chest took turns bearing the burden. Chris stood after a while, sliding his hands into the pockets of his sleep pants.

“See you in the morning,” he said, maybe a little softer than he meant to. Beth looked up at him out of the corner of her eye. “It technically is morning,” she pointed out, before acquiescing. “See you.” And just like that, the only noise left in the command room was that of technology and the patter of fingers on a keyboard.


	2. Chapter 2

A soft chirping emanated from an alarm clock by the head of the bunk, increasing slightly in volume as no action was taken to disable it. Finally, as the sound started reverberating around the small room, a hand emerged from the cocoon of blankets and sheets to tap along the shelf until it found its mark, effectively silencing it.

Inside the blankets, Beth squeezed her eyes shut as she smushed the pillow against her face. It wasn’t necessarily that she wasn’t a morning person, but rather that going without proper sleep for a week simply wasn’t good for anyone’s view of mornings. She was in a weird place where she wanted to be both asleep and awake - slumber meant letting her mental guard down to dream, and being awake meant the crushing reality was never far from pressing on her chest.

(Additionally, being awake meant having to go to the kitchen, where she ate with four other crew members, sitting in the control center for a debrief with four other crew members, working in the labs with four other crew members. Four was quickly turning out to be her least favorite number.)

With a final sigh, a small headache working its way behind her eyes and the unchanging churning in her stomach, she eased herself out of bed, changed shirts, and headed to breakfast.

Living with five - _four_ \- people for an extended period of time takes a bit of getting used to. Of course, they all went through extensive evaluations and testing to ensure that they were compatible as a team, but it had this distinct feeling of “college,” because even if you’re rooming with your best friend, they will inevitably have behaviors that rub you the wrong way at some point or another. So while the squad went through the honeymoon and post-honeymoon periods a while back, there were still some accommodations to be made regarding breakfast.

In a small group, there’s always the person who can’t even look at another human until they’ve had a solid half cup of coffee, usually black and scalding hot - this was Martinez. There’s one who is relatively ambivalent to the goings-on but will offer no original contributions to the ambling morning chatter - this was Beck. One forgoes coffee altogether and manages to be happily awake without it - this was Vogel. Another mourns the loss of a body-enveloping cocoon and recycled body heat - this was Johanssen. Lewis, to be fair, was the one who was the least different from her usual self; while she did consume a ritual coffee, it was with the typical no-nonsense, calm attitude by which she did everything else. And of course, there was always the one dropping toast, recounting dreams from the previous night (complete with dramatic reenactments), and asking the others questions that couldn’t be answered with a simple yes or no. And this, of course, was Mark.

So it made for quite the dull, throbbing shock for the past six mornings when each of them schlepped into the kitchen to find that the space now seemed stark - even sterile - in its lack of energy. It was like any sign of morning life was sucked into the vacuum that existed in each of their chests, and to Beth, it was like getting a punch to the gut.

This morning, she somehow had managed to be last to the room, and Vogel, Martinez and Beck were already seated around the white table while Lewis leaned against the counter. The feeling in the room was distinctly melancholy in a way that everyone knew was there, but no one knew what to do to remedy it. Martinez slid a bowl across the tabletop - today’s breakfast-of-choice was oatmeal, and Beth did her best to swallow despite the rolling unease in her stomach that she couldn’t seem to displace. She wondered detachedly if the others had such physical manifestations of grief as she did, and kept her eyes on her bowl.

“Team,” Lewis said briskly, cleaning out her cup, “Meet in Control for debrief in five.”

Everyone muttered their version of an affirmation, and Beth glanced up to find Beck’s eyes focused on her as the others got up to manage their dishes as well. She felt a little blank, a little empty, and so let her eyes fall back to her spoon without so much as an acknowledgement as she convinced herself to take a few more bites before heading to Control.


End file.
